


Good Ol' Times

by serencillata



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cisgender, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serencillata/pseuds/serencillata
Summary: Despite what everyone says about Gabriel Reyes and his hard training, Jesse remembers him having a soft interior under that heavy, beaten exterior.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I just realised this actually wasn't my first overwatch fanfic.

For as rough as Gabriel Reyes has always been, Jesse remembers moments when the man smiles like the sun and always has a kinder grip than everyone expects. Sure, the man is really good at barking out orders – _“What are you doing, you dumb cowkid? Go and give me fifty, now!” –_ or being very needlessly angry about certain things— _“That is not how you stand when you’re going to shoot. Did no one teach you better?” –_ but...

But Gabriel has always been deceptively kind. There have been times when his mentor—his world, really  when Jesse thinks about it – has been softer to him than when they have been training. “You’re ridiculous as hell.” Jesse remembers Gabriel saying, a frown on his scarred face and his brow furrowing. “But I guess that’s what makes you unique. Though, the cowboy motif could really go.”

“I’m lika modern age Clint Eastwood!” Jesse argues. “And I’m gonna fulfill that promise if it’s the last thing I do. Ya can bet your noisy boots that I’m gonna look dang good about it.”

Gabriel shakes his head, crosses his arms, and tries to bow his head down low to hide the amused and fond smile on his face. “My boots aren’t the ones that have the spurs on them. What were we even thinking? Bringing a wannabe cowboy into the ranks?” He shakes his head. “The media would have our asses. Is Overwatch stuck in the past, recruiting cowboys? What is even wrong with us?”

“Now, that’s just ya bein’ mighty mean.”

“Being mighty honest if you ask me.” Gabriel says, and his expression hardens and he glares at him. “You still have training to do. Your ten minute breaks over. Up and at ‘em, idiot, we got five hours of training to go through as punishment.”

And Jesse, of back then, groans at the concept of having to train for five hours. But he won’t ever deny the fact that all that training has ended up saving him; his hands don’t shake anymore when he shoots, inexperienced and self-taught, and he has an aim that surely makes the damned _Widowmaker_ tremble.

Yet through all the hours of training, yet through all the times that Jesse has messed up when he has first started out trying to _actually_ use a gun proper, Gabriel doesn’t leave him to lick his wounds like a dog. He never lets anyone lick their wounds if they are hurting; no.

Gabriel sits with everyone from Blackwatch, back then, sits with them and wraps up whatever wounds they get during their rigorous and hard training, harder than the normal Overwatch training – because criminals have to get a harder treatment, of course – and he smacks their backs and tells them, over and over, “you’ll make it through.”

For all everyone has ever said about Gabriel, for all their gripes and moans, Jesse can’t help but remember – fondly – that that man has always been a supportive, gruff man. Rough around the edges, yet something soft has always been hidden underneath his scarred and rough exterior.

Jesse can’t help but remember—he can’t help but remember the good times.

“You’re still here, cowkid?” He remembers Gabriel saying, once, with his skin scratched off of his palms and his expression exhausted. “I got nothing for ya. Gotta deal with Prince Morrison soon, and I don’t have the patience for you right now.”

“I gotcha coffee.” Jesse says, and Gabriel looks at the mug of coffee in his hand and he looks back up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know ya... I know ya don’t like Jack—“

“Commander Morrison, kid. How many times do I gotta teach you respect?”

Jesse, unsurprisingly, ignores him. “—and ya didn’t get much sleep last night, cap, so I got’cha some coffee. I made it sweet, jus’ like how I like it ‘cause I’ve never seen ya actually drink coffee.”

“I don’t.” Gabriel says, and Jesse can’t help but feel—“Thanks for the thought, cowkid. Now gimme that coffee, gonna need it to deal with that priss.”

He grins widely then, and Gabriel knocks his hat off and Jesse just cries out in anger while the coffee is taken away from him. There is an amused twinkle in Gabriel’s eyes, the coffee being sipped as he leaves and Jesse can’t help but feel proud of himself for helping him out.

Years ago, Jesse is able to stand by Gabriel’s side, puff his chest proudly and say, with confidence, that he is a changed man.

Now, however, only the shadow of a man that Jesse has once known sits next to him—for once, not aggressive, not angry, but merely tired like he is. Only the shadow of Gabriel sits next to him, his body constantly falling apart and forming together...

“This ain’t right. Ye’re the dead and I ain’t.”

“No.” Gabriel says, his voice broken and anguished. “You’re a cowboy now, cowkid.”

For some reason, he can’t help but laugh while tears prick at his eyes. “Yeah. I got promoted.”

There is only silence after that, and the eventual hiss as Gabriel – Reaper – disappears and Jesse is alone again, wondering why the past has to be the way it is.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://www.starrelia.tumblr.com)


End file.
